State of Me: Two Years Full-Time
Next month will mark 2 years since I began living authentically full-time. I look back on how I have somehow made it it this far and how I feel today.
Transition & Dysphoria
Two years ago, I began living full-time as my authentic self. The decision to do so capped a year-and-a-half of torturous questioning, anxiety, and uncertainty. Since then, I have become much more comfortable with my identity and how I present to the world. Now four months removed from facial feminization surgery, I am less dysphoric when it comes to my daily appearance. I can actually see the femininity in my face for which I had longed. I have moved from crying at the mere reflection of my face to more acceptance.
However, dysphoria continues to rear its head at times. There is still the matter of some anatomy that needs to be addressed. More than 2 1/2 years of hormone therapy has encouraged the natural growth of my breasts but only recently have I been able to get my estrogen levels to a point where feminization can be well promoted. I hope to move to estrogen injections soon, as I fear the effectiveness of my sublingual method may have reached its maximum potential. I really want to avoid a breast augmentation surgery, but my breasts are not where I need them to be. Don't get me wrong: I don't need DDs to be happy, but an A or low B cup just does not help me connect to my femininity as well as say, a C cup would.
For years, I have been tucking my bits away, but that only alleviates the dysphoria so much. As time goes on, I am more and more sure that I will have bottom surgery. My sexual desire has actually begun to increase a bit. That may be a result of discontinuing my androgen blocker a few months ago. With my body acclimated on a high estrogen dose, I have trained my body to block testosterone with estrogen and natural progesterone alone, thereby avoiding some of the negative side effects of spironolactone. That's a beautiful thing. The rise of sexual desire is a two-edged sword, as relations with my wife are a non-starter. I actually embarrassed myself a few weeks ago when I half-jokingly threw myself on the bed in her direction. Part of me wants to explore sexuality in this improved body, but part of me holds back. The next chapter in my life will include sorting out the types of relationships I want, and my approach to romance and sex needs redefinition.
While desire is part of the equation, I must reiterate that eroticism is not the central focus of my transition. Romance and relationships must be addressed as a part of life, and now that I am not questioning transition, I must look at putting the rest of my life in order, and that includes things like sexual orientation, dating, and the state of my marriage.
Followers of this blog are well aware that I continue to be married with two children. My wife and I live in the same house, and we even awkwardly share the same bed. Our marriage was in trouble before I began questioning my identity; my transition put the nail in the coffin. Letting go of my marriage has been one of the most difficult challenges I have ever faced, and it was made exponentially more difficult when coupled with my transition. I continue to love my wife, and if the decision were solely mine, we would find a way to save our relationship and repair our marriage. Of course, that is not how the world works. It takes two to tango, as they say, and my tango partner no longer wants to dance with me. She is attracted to men, and I am not a man. She is not attracted to me. Therefore, our marriage has an expiration date some time in the future. However, we are financially bound to each other, and therefore, we stay together for now.
She is still sorting out her future, but I believe if she had her way and had the financial means to do so, she would leave the house and file for divorce. She wants to be independent and free. She wants to live the rest of her life without having to rely on me. And while she has stated that she foresees being a cat lady for the rest of her life, I do not believe she would stay single long. She has a lot to offer—even if depression and low self-esteem prevent her from consistently seeing those positive qualities in herself.
While we were good for each other and probably could have been happily married long into our lives, the deck was unknowingly stacked against us.
My Wife's Future
Even before she met me, my wife had a friend, who she has never met and has only communicated by email, phone, and texts. He was always problematic and was the source of many fights between my wife and myself. He is a tortured soul and has had his share of drama, much but not all of which has been self-induced. He has been a confidant to my wife for 20 years, but he also routinely denigrates her. Many times, she has attempted to cut off communication with him only to return like a battered spouse with nowhere else to turn. Their close connection was a reason why my wife hesitated to marry me in the first place. Later, she had a secret emotional affair with him, which I discovered at a time when I had access to my wife's email and texts. Even to this day, even after swearing him off as a toxic relationship, she longs for his touch, his presence, and his manliness. She loves him more than she loves me, even if they never actually get together. They talk when I am at work. They text with each other late into the night. It is like an affair that never ended.
At this point, I am tired of complaining about him. The relationship truly is toxic. Yes, there are times she can go to him to vent about our relationship as her best friend, but there is more to that, and while my wife does not speak about it, it is clear as the light of day—and it always has been. If she were to go down that road after she and I split, I fear it would be truly disastrous not only for her but for our children as well. He is a negative influence more than a positive one. He has hurt her for decades, and he will continue to do so again. But if we are to truly divorce, it will not be my place to stand in her way of making terrible decisions unless they directly affect my children. So if she decides to explore a possible relationship with him (even though he lives across the country), that will be her decision. I will be immensely distraught and fearful that she will not find what she is looking for there, other than some possible temporary sexual relief. Their relationship has been built on lies and promises that are easily made given the distance. If they end up in the same room together, it will not be the fantasy they may have each built up for each other during those late night texts or in their dreams.
Beyond this guy, my wife has interest in looking more locally. We once had a falling out because I discovered she had created a dating profile. I am confident there are people in her church community she may have at least a fleeting interest in. Her friends and family encourage her to leave me and move on, and she is sexually repressed. All signs point to her getting more ready to find someone sooner rather than later. She may be scared to take the first real step, though. Or maybe she has already, and she just has not told me. Whatever the case, she has made it clear that I am not a part of her romantic future, and I am trying not to stand in her way, as painful as that is to do.
Beyond romantic or strictly sexual possibilities, she has a lot of other things to put in order. She is seeking a second job to pay more of our bills. She is sorting out her primary career objectives. She is working on self-care and actively dealing with her depression. Sometimes she asks for my help; other times she bottles it up and goes it alone. I do all I can to be as supportive as I ever was, but it is up to her how much she wants to lean on me for help as long as I am here.
I was not an angel in our marriage either. As much as I hate her "friend" and all of the trouble and chaos he has caused, I am not without my indiscretions. While she had an emotional affair, I turned an emotional affair (with her best female friend at the time) into a physical one when I got her friend to take a trip to visit us for a week. A month after the trip, I felt so guilty that I confessed to my wife what I had done, and while we ended up staying together in the marriage, she never truly forgave me for it. That indiscretion will always be regrettable to me, but unlike her affair, I cut off communication with her friend. I deleted email, lost phone numbers, the works. I worked hard to rebuild what we had, to be a parent to our son (and later our unplanned daughter), and to be an equal partner in the marriage.
But as I said, the deck was stacked against us. Six years into the marriage and almost nine years after we had met, I began reevaluating who I was at my core because I had fallen into a depression. My mom had died. The romance was fading from our marriage. Sex was infrequent. I was out of work for over a year. Things were very bad. As I looked ahead to my future, I did not see a doting husband with the white picket fence and a stable family. I saw the soft core of me, the potential woman inside, and I began a self-discovery journey that lead me to one of the best and worst decisions of my life: the need to transition. While I found myself and my authenticity, I destroyed any possibility that the marriage would survive. I have never been faced with such a challenge, a conundrum of epic proportions. After exhaustive introspection and therapy, I came to the conclusion that I could not live happily, married or single, unless I could live as the true me, and that meant living as a woman. Now two years full-time, I am a happier, better, more well-rounded person.
Even though signs existed, she was effectively blindsided when I told her I was having "gender issues," as I put it to her at the time. She did not know how to react, and we fought for a year-and-a-half at the very minimum, all the while trying (and not always succeeding) to shield the kids from the pain and the anger. As a family, we have all come a long way in accepting me for me, but no amount of healing can rectify the sheer amount of damage that my transition caused her.
Much like her, my career is a big question mark. After dedicating almost 7 years to an industry I thought was my childhood dream job, I am not longer interested or dedicated to following that path. I would like to work with people to help others, possibly with a non-profit, but those jobs tend not to pay well or are difficult to acquire. I need a career that will allow me to simultaneously work, parent, and pay expenses. I need financial stability.
Romantically, I would be lying if I said I did not still love my wife. I do. But I have grieved my marriage once already, and I am trying not to allow myself to get caught up in the fact that "things will work out." I have had some limited dating experiences in the last year, but I honestly do not know what I want or if I am ready. As I said earlier, my desire to be loved is mounting. My need for adult human interaction is eating at me.
Lack of Friendship
That adult human interaction need not be in a physical or romantic form. While that would be possibly welcome, I really find that I need more friends. My recent six-day hospital stay yielded exactly one friend visit, and after I came home, friends only visited after I asked for help on Facebook. I feel like I fished for friends to come see me instead of them genuinely worrying about me and actively checking in with me.
A large amount of my current friends are in the trans community. I met many at my support group. Unfortunately, I am unable to attend that group as much as I have in the past due to scheduling conflicts. Even then, many times I find that my situation is different from many of those that attend the group. They tend to not relate to where I am in my transition, the difficulties my transition brought to my family, or even acknowledge that I am feeling particularly down on any given night. My other friends all have drama going on in their lives, which leaves little room for me. Combine that with my working closing retail shifts until midnight or later 3-4 nights per week and it is easy to see that no one really has time for me, or I do not have time for them. I feel very isolated and cutoff from the world, and that has contributed to my recent slip into a depressive state.
Depression is not a stranger in my world, but for the majority of my life, I have always helped others through their battles without admitting that I was subject to depression myself. I have been the supportive voice on the other end of a potential suicide call. My wife credits me with being the main reason she sought help with her clinical depression, something she battles to this day but in a much more controlled way. I have known multiple people who have taken their own lives, and I have seen the impact those decisions have caused. I never thought I would be one to have to deal with depression. I was wrong.
Depression and isolation led me to my affair. I needed that connection I was not getting from home (partially caused by my wife's postpartum depression), and I regrettably found it elsewhere. Depression triggered the self-evaluation that set off my transition. The constant fighting and feelings of hate that I routinely received from my wife in the first year of transition spiraled me further down the black hole to the point where I seriously considered suicide for the first time in my life. I credit my children with saving me from that end. While I felt my wife and extended family and friends could live on without me in the world, I could not imagine that irreparable and life-changing damage I would be inflicting on my children.
Today, I have made incredible strides to figure out my identity and relieve some of that dysphoria, but I am once again spiraling into a dark place where I am isolated and lonely. I feel cut off from the world, and it is becoming a dangerous place to exist. Combined with extreme financial struggles and stress from fear of the unknown, I am lost. In a recent therapy session, I admitted to some of this depression. I do not yet know the resolution, and I seek help figuring it out. I do not have many close friends or family, and that seriously hampers my ability to reach out. I can only ask so much of my wife.
I should take moment here to address suicide. I have mentioned it in the past, and I again mentioned it above. There have been moments in my life where I have considered taking my own life. I never seriously considered it when I was younger. I faced some challenging, seemingly impossible moments during my school years. For example in college, I lied to my parents for almost two years about how well I was doing in school. Unable to right the ship, I was academically disqualified from my university at one point. As a result, I had to come clean to my parents, left my mom's house to live with my dad (a very regrettable decision), and was without work or school. Suicide was briefly considered but only cursorily. I was able to work through my issues and turn my life around.
After my revealing my affair, my wife moved out of the house for a week and forcibly took my son away from me. She was moments away from filing for separation in a lawyer's office. I felt like I had lost everything meaningful in my life and that everyone around me would be better off without me. Taking my life seemed easier than trying to fix my reality. Keeping my family together became more important than the loneliness and separation anxiety I experienced. I endured my wife's constant reminders of what I had done. I even worked through another near divorce after I found about her emotional affair. I worked harder than I ever had before to take care of my wife and my child.
- The closest I ever came to actually doing something was after I had come out as questioning to my wife. The daily anger and emotional powder keg that was our house—especially in that first year—is indescribable. I captured some of that in those moments in the early days of this blog. We were already having problems in our marriage when I began questioning my identity. After I revealed what I as going through, I became persona non grata. The one person I come to rely on was lost to me. She wanted nothing to do with me. Without a welcoming home and under the threat of losing the entirety of immediate family, I felt like I had nothing left to live for. There were times I stood in my kitchen and held a large chef's knife in my hand contemplating what I could do with it. While I never actually put the knife to my wrist, the thoughts were never far away from me. I believe the only thing that stopped me from actually attempting harm was the love I had for my children. They truly saved me. I could not imagine what they would have to go through if I took my life. The irreparable damage would send ripples through their entire lives, more than the damage any transition would cause. Even though I did not have the title of 'mother' yet (nor did the kids have a real idea what I was going through), I still had strong motherly ties to my children, and I could not in good faith take myself out of that equation. I needed to stay alive and figure out how to handle my possible transition for the greater good of what was left of my family and deal with those repercussions instead of them having to deal with the consequences of finding my bloody body on the floor one morning.
Now three years after coming out as questioning and almost two years living full-time, my wife and I are in a better place. Still, we are not whole. We live under the same roof, but we are not together. Yes, we lean on each other for help sometimes, but because of the wounds caused by the deep-seeded trauma of my transition, we cannot support each other as much as we once could. There is separation, division, distance. Help is unintentionally given at arm's length because while we need each other to function, we both look for way to live our lives individually. That leaves me to reach out to the few friends I have acquired, and that is a challenge because they are largely unavailable.
In the Netflix show 13 Reasons Why, a teenage girl named Hannah blames others for her suicide. In audiotapes she left behind, she points fingers at both those who did her great physical and emotional harm, as well as the people who sat on the sidelines and did nothing while she was bullied, ridiculed, or simply ignored. While there are issues with blaming others for self-inflicted harm, I can empathize with her isolation and her complaints that those who knew her best were not there or took no interest in her. Feeling alone and powerless is a crippling feeling. The stresses in my life and the directionless movement in my career and family coupled with my lack of a stable set of friends to confide places me in a situation where I could be prone to do what Hannah did.
To calm some nerves of anyone reading this, please know I am not at that point yet. I am not in my kitchen staring at a chef's knife or looking to jump into the ocean. However, the depressive feelings that could potentially lead to that type of end are ever-present, but unlike other times in my life, I am actively acknowledging them to myself and others, including my therapist and my wife. My children still need me. I still need them.
As I have inferred throughout this piece, my children are my world. With the impeding loss of my marriage, my focus is on them. I work hard to make sure our family does not go entirely underwater. I fought hard to have them call me 'Mom,' which helps validate my identity. Motherhood is an essential part of my being. I will be eternally distraught by the fact I am unable to bear children, so the best I can do is be the best mother I can be to the children I already have. They sustain me, even when they are frustrating me. My daughter's hugs melt my heart. "I love you, Mom" is the best sentence I hear everyday.
It took a long time for my wife to allow me to take a motherly title, and it was one of the biggest sacrifices she could could have ever made for me. Even eight months since my official title change, she admits that she is not comfortable with it. I understand it will take time. I thank her for continuing to refer to me as Mom.
Even though my parents divorced when I was 2, I was raised with a strong focus on family. My mom was my biggest influence. She made sure we spent time with the only great grandma that lived during my lifetime. On my dad's side, I attended huge gatherings of family at the holidays in a tiny apartment. With the death of my grandfather, those big holidays ceased to be. With the death of mother, that side of the family is a distant memory. I am effectively left with my father, who lives hours away, and my stepbrother, who does not talk to me because he does not how to deal with my transition. My family is effectively reduced to my four walls, and even that is falling apart.
I would do nearly anything for my wife, even to this day. Even after we eventually split are no longer living together, we will be in each other lives, as we co-parent our children. There will always be feelings of love, at least on my side. I still cry when I think of our past and the uncertainty of our future. The NBC show This Is Us makes me cry almost every week because of how it plays on my ideas of family. The highs and lows of family life are well-written, and I can empathize and sympathize with many of the struggles and celebrations those television families go through.
My family means so much to me, and the thought of breaking that family apart is heartbreaking. I really had to weigh that against the need to transition. In the end, I determined that I could not be an active and contributing family member if I was not the authentic me, so I risked the most important and solid piece of my world. To date, I still exist in the house, but there are palpable challenges which I may never be able to overcome. That hurts to think about.
When I move on, I will need to meet someone who will respect the fact that I am an active mother of two, with an ex who will need to be considered to an extent. Life just does not get easier.
I tell my children every day and every night that I love them. I wish I cold tell my wife that, but it would likely fall on deaf ears, or at the minimum, make her feel uncomfortable, so I don't. I endure on my own, communicating when I need to. I internalize my feelings, my need for adult human interaction, and my emerging sexual feelings. I do not like hiding these things, but it seems necessary given the current climate of the house. Even so, my family is incredibly important to me. I am a mother. I am a wife (for now). I do my best in both roles.
A Look Ahead
Times are difficult right now. Finances are stretched thin. Hope sometimes feels fleeting. I know I made the right decision to transition. I do not really know where it will take me. I am sad. I am depressed. But there is still love in my heart for my children, my family, and myself. I do my best to remain hopeful in these dark, challenging times. I am thankful for those that listen and who care about my well-being. My authentic self is shaken and falling apart, but I keep it together with hugs from my children and friends who reach out.
Two years ago, I told the world who I really was at my core. Today, I do the same. I continue to tell my story. Thank you for listening.